"That's all", she wrote.

Joan "O" has stopped writing. Well, she's only stopped writing for us — the readers of her blog. I'm feeling a little melancholy about this, as I enjoy how Joan uses words to convey a love of running.

At Calwell I've always done the longer winter warm-up runs with the kids. In pre-ancient times, I would chat to them during the run (these days I need every breath just to keep them in sight). Sometimes I'd say "What are your goals?", or "Can you see where running might take you in ten year's time?". I remember a couple of the girls replying "I want to run in the Olympics". I said "You have the talent to do that". They really did have the physical talent. Maybe they'll still run in the Olympics. I want to show them (and other young runners with similar goals) something Joan wrote in May 2005 about "doing your best": Pinball Wizard.

Joan started running seriously in 1980. In 1996, at her fourth attempt to make an Olympic team, she was successful. As was her habit in every race, she tried her very best, and on that day third place was enough. She became Joan, "O"lympian. Every race forever after was like a bonus game in pinball.

I sat up late on Sunday night to watch the US Olympic Trials Marathon for women, held in downtown Boston the day before the famous marathon. There was no video, just an intermittent text update of each mile split for the runners. As expected, Deena Kastor won, catching Magdalena Lewy Boulet in the 23^rd mile. Blake Russell placed third — two minutes behind, but her best, on that day, was good enough (at her second attempt) to become Blake, "O"lympian.

On some days I run with ancient friends. It's still not easy to keep up. They're fast!

Having the right 'tude is important if you wish to run well. Here I emulate CJ while Mark just smiles. [Katy photo]

Hadd for Ancients

As I drove the Toasts to the airport after the Canberra Marathon, Mark asked "How's the 11:07 for 3k plan going?". "It's not going to be easy", was all I could blurt out, while navigating our circuitous roads and avoiding the worst of Canberra's suicidal P-plate drivers.

There's purportedly nothing new in distance running training. I'll call my plan Hadd for Ancients, which I hope is something which will work for me. In a recent post, I wrote about being shocked at losing my sprint speed whilst doing Hadd-training. For those that don't know, Hadd is similar to the base phase of Lydiard training, but using heart-rates to guide the effort on any particular run.

Why Hadd for Ancients? Because as we become ancient (for argument, over 40, although I know teenagers who regard 25 as ancient), we lose sprinting speed. However, if we regularly practise sprinting, we can limit this loss. For the next six to eight weeks I'll run aerobic Lydiard-style base training; similar to what I did in the second half of last year, but with a few modifications. Once per week, after one of my steady runs, I'll do some barefoot 100 to 150 metre sprints on the grass track at Calwell — not flat out, but running relaxed and fast, with full recoveries between sprints. I'm also going to do a short race (about 3k), every two weeks. The other significant modification is to run more of my aerobic runs at Hadd's "upper aerobic" heart-rates — 80 to 85% of maximum (HR 133 to 141 for me), sometimes a little higher, but trying to stay under my lactate threshold. I think these faster runs will be beneficial because the mechanics of running movement at 5 minutes per kilometre pace (8:03 miles), is not dissimilar the mechanics of running at my 5k race goal pace of 4:00 per kilometre (6:26 miles).

After this six to eight weeks, I'll reduce the weekly volume, and start running one or two anaerobic interval sessions per week. More on that later. I hope everyone is having a great weekend — especially those like Jen, who are lucky enough to be running the Boston Marathon. Go Jen!

Under the bridge - Toasts and geese cheer on a marathoner in Canberra.

Go CoolRunner! Rob #174 (3:15:38) about to overtake Tim #190 (3:15:41) - 2km to go.

Go Luckylegs! 5:34:06 in her last marathon at Canberra. [Jim White photo]

She ran out of sight

The Canberra Marathon is on this Sunday. I'm not racing! Not that I was ever talented enough to race a marathon. The marathons I've run have always been a test of endurance. How long could I endure?

Canberra was where I ran my first marathon in 1981 — 3:41:14. This Sunday I'll be joining some friends to watch the excitement unfold by running to various places on the loopy course. Other friends from near and far are running the marathon (or making a spectacle of themselves by dressing up in strange outfits and cheering).

I'm particularly interested in one competitor, 'Luckylegs', who is running yet another marathon at the remarkable age of "three score and sweet eighteen". On Sunday I expect her to run out of sight... not on a dark night, but on a sparkling Autumn morning. I've been coaching Norma for three years, and the 2008 Canberra Marathon will be our last as a team. Yes, I've been sacked! I suspect she's decided to hire a better looking coach, such as Bob.

Some observers think Luckylegs's greatest achievement was her W75 Australian Record for 50k (6:32:28). Others insist it was coming within 8 seconds of the W75 world record for the mile (9:06.88). I believe her greatest achievement was the ability to endure the demands of a such a strict and humourless coach.

I hope you all have an enjoyable weekend. For us in Canberra, I have a feeling it's going to be a goof one!

Sunset at Lake Burley Griffin from near the Carillon - 9 April 2008

Lulled by Autumn

I spent the four-day break over Easter at my old home town; Wagga. It's still my mum's home town. It was a gathering of siblings, minus one: my little sister is living and working in Minneapolis. So, we had one less person to assemble the 1000-piece jigsaw puzzle — All About Chocolate! My brother and his family helped out. My nephew is 13 and my niece 11; it's amazing how much they've grown in six months.

So, it was a happy family time. I squeezed in two short runs — both down to the lake. In the sixties we could see the lake from our front porch, hence the name of our house — "Lochfyne". Now tall trees obscure the view. On my second run, I tried 'tempo pace' for the last 6k, which sent my heart-rate skyward. I've lost some aerobic fitness since Six Foot. During the last kilometre of the run, I huffed and puffed my way past my old primary school; Kooringal Public. I thought about the afternoon 'quiet time' we used to have — where you crossed your arms on the wooden desk (being careful to keep your sleeve out of the ink well), put your head down, and slept for 15 or 20 minutes.

Since Six Foot, I've been having a 'quiet time' from serious training — just running the miles, on any particular day, as I feel. I'll call this my Lydiard 'train-off' phase — the few weeks of easy running to allow recovery from the track season. The 3000 metre goal will take a concerted effort, and I want to be ready.

So ... I run, sometimes with a friend, or friends, sometimes alone; watching silvery autumn leaves from the birch trees floating through the air like winsome butterflies; and I savour a less intense warmth from the sun, shining brightly out of a clear blue sky.

Phone photo attempt 1 - When running with Strewth I have to be careful not to elbow her in the head.

Phone photo attempt 2 - Strewth is not really that short. Sunset is reflected in her glasses.

Autumn sunset over Lake Burley Griffin.

The reason we run Six Foot

It's been one week and two days since Six Foot. Only now am I able to run normally. Without pain. Well, some of my normal running involves pain, but not the delayed muscle-soreness kind of pain that comes from having run too far, and over too many mountains.

Grellan expressed surprise that I'd gone and run an 'ultra', when I'd been spending the summer training studiously for faster 3k times around the 400 metre track. The Six Foot Track Marathon has something which keeps drawing me back, year after year. I just love it.

Blogging friend Hamburglar ran Six Foot this year with a mate Will, who was carrying his trusty Olympus digital camera. Will's video, wonderfully produced, does a brilliant job of conveying the emotion of Six Foot. Have a look. I hope to see you running through the Blue Mountains on a Saturday in March, some year in the near future.

An inadvertent Six Foot PB

I feel a little like the freckle-faced child who has raided the neighbours' peach tree and got away with it. On Saturday morning I stepped, ran, walked, shuffled, and plodded, 45 kilometres through the sublime Blue Mountains from Katoomba to Jenolan Caves. I was just one of 762 finishers in Australia's greatest trail race – the Six Foot Track Marathon. In deference to my mate Scott, I'll refrain from Tolstoyising the day. Let's just say it was a long one, and a long weekend.

It was the fifth time I'd completed this race. Something keeps drawing me back. I can't help myself. This year I didn't do any specific preparation. I was so keen to run well around the 400 metre track, that I didn't want the long, slow, hilly runs diverting attention from my speedy track goal. I restricted my long runs to around 16k, usually out and back to Rose Cottage Inn.

On Saturday I felt good; relaxed. Before the Cox's River, I ran easily, having a ball on the single-track until I came upon a very long Woolies-style queue of runners, impossible to overtake. Luckily the coasting only lasted for 2km or so. The river was cool and refreshing, as were the stream crossings of Alum creek. On the hike up to the Pluviometer, a multitude of delightful bellbirds were in full tinkly voice. The distant sounds of Kookaburras added to the Aussie bush atmosphere.

It wasn't until after the Pluviometer that I contemplated a PB, and possibly going under six hours. One never knows how one will go until the Black Range. It was good! I was able to run – albeit with a shuffling stride. Walks were confined to the uphill sections. I waited for the cramps, which never came. I repeatedly thanked Blair for the cool day. By the Binda Cabins, I knew a wheel would have to seriously fall off, to keep me from running well under six hours. The landscape finally tilted down and I picked my way, with 'talking quads' gingerly to Caves House. 5 hours 41 minutes and 7 seconds! This was a 37-minute PB and placed me 469th. Very happy with the run, and very happy to be amongst friends.

Splits: Nellies (1.7k) 19:25, Megalong Valley Rd (8.1k) 52:14, Pinnacle Hill (10k) 1:03:07, Cox's River (15.5k) 1:39:40, Mini-Mini summit (20k) 2:25:24, Pluviometer (26k) 3:22:28, Caves Rd (37.9k) 4:49:42.

11:58.44

On Thursday I slid the DeLorean to a stop in the year 2002. That was the last time I'd run faster than 12 minutes for 3000 metres – 11:57.95 at an Interclub meeting on December the 14th. On Thursday afternoon I ran 11:58.44. Needless to say, I'm happy to be in the elevens once again. I've been asked to "tell all", so here is the whole story...

I worked for 9 hours, but tried to forget about it. Managed a 30-minute nap before driving out to the AIS, for once allowing plenty of time for a good warm-up. I jogged 5k slowly, with some breaks for stretches and rest – felt OK doing this, but not great. My movement did feel good after swapping to the Frees and running some strides. I had my mind in the right place, and was positive about doing well. My mate Blair at the BOM had organised the temperature to be a mild 16°C.

I started on the outside of the curve, with a plan to slot in behind Burkie. He's not a fast starter, but was in good form (40:55 for 10k last week). Nev took my spot, so I followed him and Burkie through the 200m mark in 44 seconds – 11-minute pace, but it didn't feel that quick. Robbie was about 10 metres ahead of our group of three.

The photofinish clock showed 3:55 after one kilometre. I was still feeling comfortable enough. At this point, Burkie slipped ahead by a few metres, but I decided to stay behind Nev. I was having to chop my stride at times to stay at this speed – it's been so long since I've experienced that in a race, that I'd almost forgotten the feeling. I pulled wide in the home straight and thought about passing Nev, but the moderate head-wind was enough to deter my enthusiasm for the move.

We overtook Robbie, and at the start of the next lap, I sensed Nev was slowing, so went past. Burkie was 40 metres ahead, but I couldn't do anything about it. I was pretty much at my limit. 2000 metres in 7:55, so 4 minutes for that kilometre. Speedygeoff was standing at the 200m start, shouting (quietly) encouragement to all the geese. Thanks Geoff! The last kilometre was feeling hard (as it should) – I was hoping I had enough time in hand to sneak under 12 minutes. Geoff called "eleven fifteen, go for it!" My mental arithmetic went into overdrive... sub-45 needed for the last 200 metres. I sprinted as well as I could, very thankful for the sprints I've been doing in training lately. 11:58.44, an M50 PB! 6:25 per mile pace for imperialist friends such as Grellan.

That was the last 3000 metre race of the season. The good result has fired my enthusiasm for the rest of the year. My next opportunity to race on the track will be at the High Noon meets in June. That will be novel – racing a distance event on the track in Canberra's perfect arctic-like winter stillness.

Did Hadd do it for me?

Does Hadd-training work? Did six months of running slowly make me faster? The short answer is that it did, and it didn't. As John Hadd predicted, my lactate threshold improved, and my running speed while 'sitting on' various heart-rates became faster. This translated into some marginally quicker races compared to 2005, my last good year: 1 minute faster for the half marathon, and 6 seconds for the 3000 metres. Hardly earth-shattering, however there was one race which did show dramatic improvement. The wondrous 5k at Stromlo – 20:54, finishing ahead of people who usually leave me far behind in races, like road-kill left to decay on the Stuart Highway. This one race has me convinced about the importance of aerobic conditioning.

How slow did I run when doing Hadd-training? The upper aerobic (harder) runs eventually got down to 5:06 per km (8:12 miles), while the lower aerobic (easier) runs were around 6:00 per km (9:39 miles). How much did I run? 91 kilometres per week, or for about eight and a half hours per week.

So, towards the end of Hadd-training, I became faster, but there was one unforeseen consequence. My maximum speed became slug-like. When asked to run significantly faster* than the speeds used in Hadd, my body protested. I suspect this is because one becomes so expert at the shorter stride used when running slowly, that suddenly switching to a more powerful, longer stride causes bitter complaint from the body. The marathon-shuffle I used for slow running was too far removed from the expansive stride needed for a fast 3000 metres. My running economy (use of oxygen) with an unfamiliar stride was poor.

Discovering that I've become both faster and slower is my epiphany. I like Hadd, but the downside is that it takes too long after finishing Hadd to regain maximum speed. I can see now why Nick Bideau (Craig Mottram's coach) recommends one session of sprinting in the weekly schedules of his distance runners – 4-5 x 80 to 120 metres at 95% of maximum speed, with full recoveries. The 'fine speed' that Arthur Lydiard talks about is therefore retained throughout the year.

I hope everyone has a good week. For my up-over readers struggling through icy blizzards, you'll be pleased to hear our final weeks of down-under summer have been mild and idyllic with temperatures around the 70°F mark.

* My 11:07 goal for 3000 metres requires a speed of 3:42 per km (5:58 per mile).

Speed, come back!

An unforeseen consequence of doing six months of Hadd-training is that my speed has departed on the last train to Clarkesville. By speed, I mean my ability to sprint. Okay Geoff, you can stop laughing. I've never claimed to be the bearded answer to Cathy Freeman. As a clean-shaven 28-year-old, I could only sprint 400 metres in 62 seconds. "Anyway", I hear my vast readership asking, "why does a distance runner need to be able to sprint?" Because I need some difference between my top speed and 3k race-pace.

In my first post-Hadd interval session, I ran 200 metre repeats averaging 41 seconds for each. If I'm to run 11:07 for 3000 metres, I need to run every 200 metre split of the race in 44.5 seconds. Clearly there's not enough space (yet) between my top speed and goal race-pace. In my ancient sub-10 minute 3k days, I could jump on the track any time of the year, and run 10 x 200 metres in 32 seconds. Race-pace for 3k back then was 40 seconds per 200 metres, so about 25% slower than top speed. If I can eventually run a similar interval session in 35.5 seconds per 200 metres, my top speed should be sufficiently fast enough to run 11:07. At least top speed won't be a limiting factor to my goal.

When this season of track racing finishes in March, I'm thinking of using the 'conditioning' phase outlined by Arthur Lydiard, rather than simple Hadd-training. What I like about Lydiard's 2-week schedule, is that it includes one day of 'relaxed striding' – 4 to 8 repeats of 200 metres, and one 'time trial' of 3000 or 5000 metres. The 200s should help maintain some sort of fast-twitch muscle condition over winter.

Recent races:
17 Jan - 1500m in 5:51.01. 2 Feb - 5000m in 21:29.58. 7 Feb - 3000m in 12:16.07.

Progression – 1992 to 2007

Commenting on my last post, Rachel asked "Why the 3000 metres?". In short, I like it because a fast 3k is challenging, and the distance suits my physical abilities. Speedwork and other specific training is needed for a good 3000, whereas it's possible to run reasonably well at distances of 5k and above, purely off the base mileage phase of Lydiard, or with simple Hadd-training.

I'm not a marathoner, and I'm definitely not an 800 metre runner. The 3000 sits in that happy running place that requires both endurance and speed. There's no wall to be broken through, like the tank-proof one Kayoko Fukushi found in Osaka. There are many opportunities in Canberra to race 3k over the summer months, and our Arizona-like heat is less of a problem when racing shorter distances. Speaking of which, I never claimed it was humid on that hot January night! That was a rumour initiated by some toast-hating, juvenile lipstick wearing dame; now sporting a wrinkled, collapsed bag of a face.

I always find those 'progression tables' seen on elite athlete profiles interesting. They usually show a trend of steadily improving PBs over the years – such as the ones for Benita Johnson and Craig Mottram. The table below shows the progression of my race times since 1992 – the last year I broke 10 minutes for 3000 metres. If I'm to run Eleven-07 in O-eight, it looks like I need to somehow drag my decrepit doddering body back to the year 1997. I hope my goal doesn't need a DeLorean.

Year	800m	1500m	3000m	5000m	10,000m	1/2 M
2007	-	-	12:15.43	21:45.27	44:54.57	1:40:48
2006	2:55.70	5:47.89	13:28.37	-	-	2:26:25
2005	-	-	12:21.06	21:03.0	44:53.45	1:41:57
2004	2:42.49	5:32.59	12:23.0	20:54.9	42:20 (r)	1:38:40
2003	2:40.7	5:28.7	12:02.7	21:48.18	44:14 (r)	1:42:39
2002	2:39.19	5:27.1	11:57.95	20:24.9	43:07.8	1:40:04
2001	2:37.1	5:11.6	11:21.0	20:06.1	40:39.4	1:34:51
2000	2:33.7	5:09.1	11:32.8	-	39:16 (r)	1:37:39
1999	2:29.2	5:11.9	11:19.4	20:04.0	41:15 (r)	1:36:55
1998	2:31.4	5:08.1	11:21.3	19:46 (r)	41:09 (r)	1:39:26
1997	2:24.6	4:58.9	10:53.7	-	38:51 (r)	1:33:22
1996	2:27.9	4:59.4	10:34.2	18:58.4	39:33 (r)	1:25:18
1995	2:19.8	4:56.4	10:31.8	18:36.5	38:17 (r)	1:23:31
1994	2:27.4	4:54.7	10:46.4	18:21.8	38:20.7	1:23:54
1993	2:22.2	4:49.1	10:16.4	17:59.8	39:39 (r)	1:25:25
1992	2:20.2	4:50.9	9:56.9	18:17.5	37:57 (r)	1:24:01
(r) = 10k time run on a certified road course.

The 11:07 bumper sticker is available at a campaign office near you!